High Noon
by SkinnyLittleLesbian
Summary: Western AU Emma Swan barely knew the kid riding behind her and didn't plan on sticking around his town. Yet she found herself sucked into the small town, and its problems rapidly became her own. Swan Queen. Reposting.
1. Chapter 1

The pistol at her side was already loaded and ready; she reached down, grabbed the hem of her jacket, and tucked it up into a pocket. Her fingers twitched at her hip as she eyed the dirty man in front of her. The man in front of her might try to run, she thought. He certainly had the look about him – he was a small man with dirt-smeared features and pinprick black eyes that continued to shoot furtive glances at the door.

"Tell me where your friends are."

"Ain't got no friends."

"Oh, my mistake." She took a step towards him and watched him flinch backwards as if the resulting noise had been from a slap and not a footfall. "But, see, here's the thing: the people back in Boston – well, they think you've got friends. Real good friends. And you know where they're headed."

"It's a mistake," he argued, his voice cracking midway through the sentence. His eyes shifted towards the door once more, and his lips twitched nervously.

She adjusted her wide-brimmed hat. "This can go one of two ways. You can stand there and tell me what I want to know, and nobody needs to get hurt. Or you can see which one of us is faster."

He transferred his gaze from the door to her face and then down to her holster. He was calculating, she thought, but his chances weren't good. She was fairly renowned for how quick her draw was, and he couldn't keep his hands steady enough to hit an unmoving target. "They went west."

"Just left you here, did they?"

"Yes."

"Where are they headed, exactly?"

"To the western-most settlements." He ducked his head, ashamed of his tattling. "And then beyond. As far as it takes to shake the law. Maybe north."

She strode to his side and gripped his shoulders with as much force as she could muster. A small, pathetic whimper escaped him, but the noise evoked no mercy in her. His head wobbled, but he provided no resistance as she pulled him towards the door and out to the sheriff.

One bandit out of four only garnered one fourth of the reward money, she mused grimly. She'd tracked them halfway across the known continent, only to get stymied by one idiot left behind. She planned on collecting the rest, and now she knew which direction to point her mount. As she pocketed the meager reward, she resolved to beat the remaining bandits soundly, simply because they made her life more difficult.

0-0-0

The midday sun was unrelenting, and as sweat dripped down his cheeks, he felt miserable. He wished that he had perhaps thought to leave earlier in the morning, or later at night when the heat was less intense. His mouth had dried completely and when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, it merely stuck to his skin. If only, he thought woefully, he hadn't ditched his pack a few miles back due to its weight. He could almost taste the water from his canteen.

"She should be here," he whispered. The few ragged bushes around him provided no cover from the sun, and the only shade to be had was cast directly beneath his feet. "She can't let anyone die."

When he tripped over a rock in his path, he found that he was too weak to stand back up again. His arms quavered as he tried to drag himself along, but ultimately he let them flop to the ground. Eyes closing, he decided allowing himself a short nap wouldn't be that awful.

0-0-0

All things considered, Emma Swan did not consider herself a very happy person. She wasn't happy with the people with whom she worked. She wasn't happy with Boston, or the surrounding towns she was forced to visit. She wasn't happy with the conmen she rounded up. Just about the only thing she was happy with was her horse. He never questioned her decisions or attempted to order her around. So as she started her journey westward to catch the three remaining criminals, she did so with a profound sense of peace. For a few blissful days, she would be alone with her horse, and nobody would be around to pester her.

With her hat to keep the sun off her face, the ride was almost relaxing. Her long blonde hair was knotted loosely under the hat's long brim – up off her neck to allow the slight breeze to cool her down. The day was too warm for her usual garb, so she made due with a loose fitting button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. The shirt was once white, but the sun and dirt and lack of regular washing had sullied the garment's purity. Suspender straps crossed over her back and latched loosely to her trousers. Her lucky red leather jacket was tossed over the horn of her saddle.

The clopping of her mount's hooves kept her mind from wandering too far from the task at hand – that and the sound of her supplies clacking together. Given her druthers, she would never prefer thinking about her life and the choices she had made. That required far too much introspection, which, she found, generally only led to not being happy with herself, which meant being a bit more unhappy than she wanted to be. Keeping her mind in the present was best. She had a job to do and money to earn.

As she scanned the horizon, her eyes focused suddenly on a lump on the ground a few hundred yards away. It was too far away for her to know what it was, so she nudged her horse forward and altered her course. When she was close enough, she patted her horse's neck, slipped down to the ground and nudged the lump with the tip of her boot. The lump groaned and shifted. Squatting down, she confirmed that the lump was indeed both alive and a child.

"Kid, what are you doing out here?"

"Help, please." He gasped, "Water."

She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out her canteen. He appeared too weak to help himself, so she unscrewed the lid and eased the liquid into his mouth. She tilted the container slowly so that not a single drop spilled to the dry ground.

"Thank you."

She pushed the brim of her hat up with her index finger and cocked an eyebrow at him. "So you wanna to tell me what you're doing out here?"

"I was looking for someone." He wiped his hand tiredly against his mouth. Feeling a bit better, he blinked through the harsh light and tried to focus on Emma.

"Didn't find him, did you?" Emma chuckled. "Doesn't seem very smart – wandering out into the wild with nothing. Where you from?"

"Storybrooke."

She shook her head. "Can't say I've ever heard of any town with that name."

"It's a small town." His eyes narrowed as he finally took in her appearance. Hope began to pool in his chest. "What's your name?"

"Emma. Yours?" Her usual bristly attitude didn't apply to children. Children were too young to be malicious.

"Henry Mills. Emma, do you know who your parents are?"

"Where's Storybrooke?"

He recognized that she was dodging his question and sighed. "It's several miles west of here."

"I'm taking you home, kid."

Maybe, he thought, she was the one for whom he was looking. If she entered the town line and stayed, she just had to be the one. With that in mind, he nodded and struggled to his feet. She put her foot in one stirrup and kicked her opposite leg over. Reaching down, she grabbed his arm and helped him up behind her. He quickly wrapped his tiny arms around her waist. Although she was mildly irritated at the intrusion, Emma said nothing.

"Emma, why were you out here?"

She glanced back at her charge, shrugged, and turned away once more. "Business."

As they rode, thoughts came together in his mind. Her finding him was no coincidence – it couldn't be. There were hundreds of miles of wide open spaces, and she had stumbled upon the tiny patch of land he occupied. Their meeting was fate or, better yet, destiny.

"I think you were meant to find me," he said, pressing his cheek to her back.

"Sure, kid."

"Storybrooke is cursed," he confided.

She searched the area ahead for the town of which he spoke. The sooner they arrived, the sooner she could resume her search, and the less she would have to listen to his imaginations. He looked to be around ten years old – too old for such childish nonsense. Yet she was in no position to say anything. She wasn't his mother.

"How much farther?"

"Not far. You have to believe me. You have to break the curse."

Finally the roofs of buildings crested, and Emma heaved a sigh of relief. The boy slouched against her. She twisted briefly to look at his dejected face. "Kid, I gotta say – none of what you're saying makes a lick of sense."

"Why won't you believe me?"

"There's no such thing as curses." She leaned to the side and spat to display her disdain for the idea. "Otherwise, with all the enemies I've made, I doubt I'd be alive."

"But that's just it! If you are who I think you are, then it's because of the curse that you are. Magic is real."

This was nonsense. She fell silent, even as he begged her to believe him, and trotted down Storybrooke's main street. As they entered, she could feel dozens of eyes watching them, though only a few people were bold enough to openly stare from the street.

"Where do you live?"

"I'm not telling you until you listen to me."

She made eye contact with a pretty woman leaning on a railing outside of what could only be the local saloon. The woman winked at her, and she smirked back.

She called over, "Where's this kid belong?"

"He's the mayor's," the woman responded. "And that's the only free answer you'll get from me. But – if you come back later…"

"I'll keep that in mind." Emma nodded politely at the woman and logged the information away.

"Just ask for Ruby."

The woman disappeared back inside and all at once the staring stopped. The men tending their horses nearby resumed their work. Emma let her horse move further into town, judging how close she was to Henry's house by how agitated he became.

"Just stop for a moment and listen!"

She pulled her horse to a halt in front of the most regal looking house she had ever seen outside of the confines of city living. Though the land was dry and hostile, somehow this house had a leafy apple tree flourishing in its yard.

"Your parents are probably worried sick."

"My mom's not worried," he argued. "She's evil."

"How bad can she be, kid?"

"Bad."

She examined his face and noticed a small bruise near his temple. Perhaps she would stick around, just to do a little digging. There was probably nothing to the Henry's fantasies, but after her own childhood, Emma was unwilling to ignore a child's plea for help. Emma gave him a gentle push and eased him to the ground before sliding out of the saddle herself. She looped her reins over a fence post and grabbed Henry's arm just as he made a last ditch attempt at running away. She'd dealt with so many flighty individuals in her lifetime that this was simply second nature to her.

The front door to the house erupted open and two figures darted outside. The taller of the two was a rugged man who smiled at her. He hovered a foot or so behind the woman with him. This dark haired woman, who was dressed in immaculately pressed black trousers and a silken blouse, glared. For a moment nothing was said to Emma as the woman hugged Henry to her chest and admonished him for running away.

Emma cleared her throat. "I take it you're the boy's mother and father?"

"Who are you, and what were you doing with my son?" The woman stood and all at once Emma felt the full heat of the woman's anger. Though the woman was about her size, certainly no bigger, the woman had the ability to feel larger and imposing. Emma was envious of this, as it certainly would only have assisted her in the past.

"I found him about five miles from here, collapsed and dehydrated. I gave him water and brought him back."

"And still you refuse to tell us who you are."

"She's Emma," Henry supplied. "And she's telling the truth."

"Go inside," the woman commanded. "Graham, you may go. Thank you for your assistance."

The rugged man nodded curtly and walked away, leaving the two women to stare at each other. Emma had been evaluated before, dissected with piercing looks, but none quite as potent as the one she was currently receiving. She shifted her weight and placed her hands on her hips.

"Well, you've got it from here." Emma nodded. "Is there somewhere in this town to spend the night?"

The power of the woman's look diminished, though her dark eyes remained on Emma's face. "You're staying?"

"I was tracking bandits before this little detour. They're probably far from here now, so I might as well get a good night's rest on a real bed."

"I suppose telling you is the least I can do for the woman who rescued my son."

"Perhaps you'll also answer me one other question: Who are you?"

"Mayor Mills."

"Got a first name?"

"I don't know. Do you have a last?"

"Swan." Emma smirked.

"Regina."

"Regina," Emma repeated. The name was quite befitting the snide look that adorned the other woman's face. The look was haughty and arrogant, as if it were specifically designed to make Emma feel lower than a tick on a dog's belly. "Join me for a drink down at the saloon, Madam Mayor?"

Regina's nose crinkled at the distasteful thought. "No, but I will invite you inside for one if you insist."

Emma trailed after the regal woman, unsure as of yet what to make of Regina Mills, mayor of Storybrooke.

0-0-0

"Emma!"

Henry latched onto her waist as soon as she stepped inside the house. She allowed the contact for a moment as she tried to gauge Regina's reaction. The downward curl of Regina's lips was the only display of displeasure that the other woman allowed on her face. Gently, Emma pushed the kid away from her and held Regina's gaze with her own.

"Kid."

"Henry, go to your room. Ms. Swan and I need to talk."

Henry glared at his mother but scurried down the hallway. Emma wondered what could prompt such hostile behavior between a mother and son. As soon as he was gone, Regina guided Emma to a sitting room and promptly poured the blonde a drink.

"Homemade cider."

Emma accepted the tumbler. "I saw the tree out front. It's remarkable that it's still green."

"I've been caring for it since I was but a girl."

"Henry's an interesting kid."

"Oh?" Regina had her back to Emma, so Emma missed the pained look that crossed the brunette's face.

"I'm surprised you let a boy as grown as him believe in magic."

"Magic?"

"He thinks the town is cursed." Emma sipped the liquid and was pleased with the burn that cascaded down her throat. "And that you're evil. Why would he think that, Madam Mayor?"

The accusation in Emma's voice rankled Regina, but she gave the blonde a terse smile. "He has always been prone to flights of fancy, Ms. Swan. I do my best as his mother to let him have what's left of his childhood."

The statement felt loaded to Emma. "And what of his father?"

Emma noted the slight tremor that ran through Regina's hand. It was but a momentary lapse in the woman's finely constructed façade, but it was enough to let Emma know she'd touched upon a sore subject.

"He is no longer with us."

"How old is he now? Henry, I mean."

"Ten." Regina poured her own glass of cider with hands that were once more steady and stood with her arms folded. "He has a few years left of being my little boy."

"I noticed he has a bruise."

"He's a clumsy boy."

"Does he get bruises often?"

"Not anymore."

Emma wasn't sure what to make of that. She had a few drops left in her glass, which meant she only had a few more minutes to get information without being rude. Under other circumstances, she wouldn't mind being impolite to get what she wanted, but something told her that Regina would not take kindly to such methods.

"It's unusual to see a female mayor."

"Perhaps." Regina eyed Emma's nearly empty glace. "You will find lodging at the saloon. Ask for Granny Lucas. I'm sure she can spare you a room for the night, even if you do not purchase… companionship."

"I was considering staying a little longer than a night." Until that point, Emma had not had such a plan, but there was something odd about this town. She didn't owe Henry anything, but she felt obligated to make sure he was fine. "I'm worried about Henry."

"Are you a cowboy or a knight, Ms. Swan?"

"Cowgirl."

"Cow…person." Regina amended. "You've known him for a matter of hours. What do you care about a little boy like him?"

"Nothing."

"So you'll leave in the morning." Regina made sure Emma had finished her drink before taking the tumbler back and pushing Emma towards the door. "Just head down the street. The saloon is hard to miss."

Emma tilted her head and nudged her hat, the only semblance of manners Emma was willing to show the mayor. She untied her horse and, with a meaningful look back at Regina, walked down the road. A small puff of dust billowed up behind her. A single leaf on the apple tree shriveled, snapped, and drifted away on a breeze.


	2. Chapter 2

"What will you have?"

Emma leaned down on the bar and smiled at the barkeep. He was a slight man with a balding head, though he maintained auburn puffs of hair around his temple. He kept a rag slung over one shoulder, and his hands were always in motion. She appreciated a fellow who worked hard, and she could tell he wasn't the sort to skirt putting in an honest effort. The smile he gave back to her was genuine.

"Local brew is fine." She removed her hat and tugged her money clip from inside the brim. After a long day's ride, she was looking forward to something cool sliding down her throat. She'd also appreciate a bath, but she had no idea if that would be an option.

"Staying long?"

"I don't know yet. If I was to stay, do you know of anyone around town that needs help? A ranch needing a hand, anything like that?"

"Oh, don't ask him." The woman from earlier slid around Emma's side with a coy smile. Her fingers danced along Emma's forearm up to her shoulder, where her hand eased behind Emma's neck. "Archie doesn't know much of anything. All he's good for is listening to the problems of the local drunks while they cry over spilt beer."

"You're Ruby."

"You remembered." Ruby smiled and leaned in closer.

"Sure." Emma slid a bill to Archie. "Thanks for the drink."

He settled his eyes momentarily on Ruby, words clearly on his lips. After a moment, he shook his head and redacted his unspoken commentary. "If you need anything else, just let me know."

Emma allowed Ruby to tug her to a small table near the back of the saloon and let her eyes graze over the other people scattered throughout the room. An elderly woman in a fancy blue dress lingered near a staircase, fanning herself and minding the space. A group of seven men huddled around the craps table, jostling for the best position to watch the rolling dice. The only other patron was a man who though smiling widely at her when they passed his table left her feeling ill at ease.

The man stood and, with the aid of his cane, limped towards the swinging doors. The cane was useful, he mused as he walked slowly down the street. Both the cane and his limp were effective props that allowed others to view him as doddering, as needing sympathy, as being as far from dangerous as a man could get. In a world without magic, he found such props to be the perfect defense. This camouflage worked better than a cloak with the hood up.

A breeze rolled past – a cool reprieve from how hot the days had been. He used to be able to hear secrets on the wind; in this world with its lack of magic, though, he heard nothing but his own thoughts. When the leaf drifted near him, he reached up and daintily plucked it from the air. His lips peeled open in a smile, this one more sinister than the one he'd given Emma. He continued his journey, making sure to keep the leaf safely in his grasp. Finding Regina standing on her porch pleased him, even though attention was elsewhere; her eyes fixated on the saloon down the way.

"Good evening, Madam Mayor."

Her attention wavered and she blinked, as if being drawn out of a dream. "Good evening, Dr. Gold."

"There's an odd wind blowing through town tonight."

Her eyes narrowed. "What, dare I ask, is that supposed to mean?"

He opened his fingers to display his catch to her. As there was only one tree in town, she knew exactly from where it came. She glanced over at her apple tree, tried to ascertain how many leaves were still upon it, and then stared once more at Gold. Her breath caught in her throat as he crushed the leaf into dust and let the pieces drift to the ground. She walked to his side, trying to maintain a calm mien.

"What are you doing?"

He raised his brows at her, feigning ignorance. Hand clean, he lifted it and gestured to the air. "I was merely commenting on the weather. Unless… Was there something special about that leaf, Regina?"

"You know perfectly well what that leaf was." She braced her hands against her hips and glared at him. They had known each other for too long, she thought. He ought to know by now that she wasn't one of his puppets, to be toyed with when the whim struck him.

"Not in the mood for games, I see." He tapped his cane against the ground and nodded. "I best be off."

"What does it mean?"

"Hm?"

"The leaf. I assume it fell off my tree."

"It means the clock is ticking, dearie, and you'd best hurry up."

Regina remained composed as Gold continued on his way, but her heart was hammering against her ribcage. Her eyes flickered to her tree, trying once again to determine how many leaves were left – and how long that left her.

0-0-0

"So do you think anyone around here needs the help?" Emma toyed with her drink and tilted her head to the side. She was fairly certain she was in no danger here, but habits died hard, and she would be damned if someone or something snuck up on her.

Ruby leaned back in her chair. Once Emma had – politely – refused her company for the evening, she had relaxed. "I think the Nolan ranch lost a worker just yesterday. Poor man got his hand crushed under a wagon. You could go ask around there."

"I suppose I will." Emma knocked back the rest of her drink, slammed the glass down, and dragged her sleeve over her lips. "So what's the deal with this town?"

"The deal?"

"What happened to the old mayor?" And, Emma wondered, why does the mayor's son think his mother is evil?

"You mean Regina's husband." Ruby shrugged. "Got bitten by a rattlesnake. Nobody knows how it got into his house, but they found him dead one morning, with the puncture wounds and the live animal curled up under the bed. They had a hell of a time getting it out."

"Where was Regina?"

"Sleeping soundly next to him." Ruby tittered. "You don't think she did it, do you?"

Emma tugged absently on her suspenders. It was a possibility, but she wasn't looking to start trouble. She caught criminals, but she didn't determine was one. The mystery was just intriguing, but she didn't know what to do with the information and so chose to move on. "She just took over running this town after that?"

"We voted on it, and everyone agreed she was in the best position to be our mayor."

"So she's well liked?" Emma could understand – though the woman was sharp tongued and a bit hostile, she was equally charming and attractive. As much as Regina made her bristle, she had to admit that Regina wielded her authority quite effectively.

"Very much so. And everybody adores little Henry." Ruby's eyes quirked, as if she was searching for something on the tip of her tongue. The look vanished when she finished speaking.

Emma tilted her head, curious but decided to leave her questions for another time. "Well, I'd like to get settled. Thanks for the information, Ruby. Any chance there's a room available, just for the night?"

"Talk to Granny." Ruby pointed to the regal older woman by the stairs. Emma thanked her again and stood.

"You're still here." The batwing doors swung open and chatter in the saloon ceased for just a moment. Once the townspeople realized who had entered, they returned to their earlier, noisier activities.

Emma paused midstride and glanced at the new arrival – the man from earlier who had been with the mayor. She noticed now that he had a gleaming golden star pinned on his chest. She nodded in response to his question. As a man of the law, he didn't pose a threat to her.

"I am."

"I'm a bit surprised the mayor didn't personally escort you out of town." He tucked his thumbs into his waistband and appraised her.

"Tell you the truth, I am too." Emma couldn't help but smile. She'd run into Regina's sort before – the sort that knew she was beautiful and powerful and had no qualms abusing those advantages. She enjoyed going toe-to-toe with those folk, pushing back when she could, and she had a feeling that in Regina's case, her reaction would be no different.

"Are you staying long?"

"Maybe. I don't rightly know."

"Then I may have a proposition for you. It's been a while since I've had a deputy. The last got shot months back, and I could use the help."

Emma settled her hands on her gun belt. "And how do you know I'm deputy material?"

"Well, for one, you stood up to the mayor." He bowed his head to her bravery and then glanced up with a smirk. "Not many men in this town could do that. Mostly, though, I don't. But that gun on your hip looks well taken care of."

"I'm a fair shot," she allowed. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"Wouldn't be opposed."

She swaggered to the bar and asked Archie for a shot glass, the smallest he had. Though he looked confused, he procured the item and slid it into her waiting hand. Without further ado, she tossed it over her shoulder and drew her pistol. In one motion, she turned around, aimed, and fired. By the time the glass shattered, her pistol was back in its holster, and she was waiting for the sheriff's approval. It was a paltry party trick she'd learned to woo more easily swayed women, but she knew it looked good and was no easy feat.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced." He took his hat off and extended his hand. "My name is Sheriff Graham Humbert, and you must be Deputy…"

"Emma Swan." She accepted his hand shake and noted that he had a firm grip and a warm palm. The people here all seemed pretty decent, she thought, though she hardly wanted to get comfortable here.

"First order of business – I expect you're looking for a room for the night."

"That's right."

"There's an apartment on top of the sheriff's office. Nothing fancy, mind you, but it has the basic amenities." He scratched his scalp before resettling his hat. "Nobody's used it in a… well, in a long time now, so you're more than welcome to stay there as long as you like."

"Is there a place for my horse?"

"We have a small barn just out back."

Even as she agreed to the position, Emma felt a wave of hesitation ebbing at the shore of her mind. She was used to wandering and heading in whatever direction felt right – to following a star and hunting down outlaws. To take a job, however impermanent, in a small town like this… She swallowed hard and felt the beer churning in her belly. Still, this was a boon, so she smiled at him.

"We should celebrate. Have a beer on me?"

Though she didn't feel much like drinking more alcohol, she nodded curtly and followed him back to the bar. Her doubts were for another time, she decided. She could use her new position to gather information and make sure Henry was in no danger. Once she was content, or once she had taken the appropriate measures, she would pack up and leave. Nothing ultimately had to change.

0-0-0

"Miss Blanchard?" Henry tugged on the woman's sleeve until she turned her round face down to look at him.

"Yes, Henry?"

"I need a favor."

Her lips turned up at the edges and she leant down to his level. She spoke in an even tone, one that most adults used when they talked to him. He didn't like it, but he needed her help. "What can I do for you, Mr. Mills?"

"There's a new woman here." He raised his eyebrows as he lowered his voice. "I need to talk to her. Can you invite her here," he gestured to the one room school house, "after school?"

She laughed. "Afraid your mom will see?"

He nodded. "Please, Miss Blanchard."

"I suppose I could go see her over the lunch break." She hesitated. "If it's really that important to you…?"

"It is." He hugged her legs and ran off, leaving her to wonder if her actions would once again land her on the mayor's blacklist.

0-0-0

Emma took her time examining the sheriff's office. Graham had gone out to assist a local rancher with a broken fence, which truly spoke volumes about the amount of crime this town saw, and had insisted she make herself at home.

She spent the most time examining the wanted posters pinned to a board behind the sheriff's desk. They were years old and seemed more like decorations than actual listings. One of the papers actually crumbled under her probing fingers. Crime truly was slow, which made Emma wonder why Graham was so insistent on hiring her as a deputy.

"Excuse me? Are you Miss Swan?"

Emma dusted her fingers off on her chaps and turned to greet her visitor. "Deputy Swan now, as it were."

"Oh, my apologies." Mary-Margaret marveled at the woman before her. She had rarely seen a woman wearing the garb of men, other than the mayor – but the mayor was an exception in most matters, clothing included. "I'm Mary-Margaret. I'm the school teacher here."

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"I know this might be an odd request, but would you join me at the end of the school day?" She had such a hopeful face that Emma nodded without really knowing why. "The schoolhouse is just across the way from the mayor's home."

"I'll be there."

"I suppose I should return. Who knows what fifteen children could be getting up to without my supervision…"

Emma cocked her head and watched the other woman leave. She felt a strange affinity for Mary-Margaret, though she couldn't fathom why. Perhaps, she thought, Mary-Margaret was just a friendly soul who befriended everyone and garnered the hate of none. Emma had to admit that she envied such people, as her own personality had been known to rub many the wrong way.

A grunt drew her attention to the barred area along the back wall. The man sleeping on the threadbare cot sat up slowly, clutching his head. Emma leaned against the desk and waited for the man to come more fully to his senses.

"Lemme out now. It's okay." He pawed at his eyes and tried to stand. His legs, however, gave up midway through the action, and he fell back down. His second attempt was much more successful, and he managed to stagger to the bars. "Pretty lady, lemme go."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." She folded her arms across her chest.

"I'm not drunk no more." He hiccupped.

"I don't have the keys, and even if I did, you're still drunk."

"That's not why he's in there." Graham pushed the door to the station open. He had a healthy coat of dirt on his hands and a ruddy stain from the sun on his cheeks. "We're holding Mr. Smee here because he's been linked to a series of petty robberies."

"I tol' you, ain't me." Smee attempted to clutch his head. "Gimme my hat back?"

Graham opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a floppy red scrap. He tossed it to the inebriated man, who pulled it clumsily over his ears.

"Willie, if you just talk to us, I'm sure we can work something out."

Smee hiccupped again and swayed. Emma was sure he was going to topple over again, but he steadied his weight against the bars of the cell and reached towards her.

"I can't tell you nothing." Despite his attitude, his words were losing their slur. "They'll know it's me."

"Who's they?" Emma asked.

Graham rubbed the back of his neck. "They are the Lost Boys. Young guys, most of 'em, all from around here. Started causing trouble a few years ago, but it's starting to escalate. We can't ignore it anymore. I'm thinking there's someone at the top, who's organizing them now. Won't be long until they do something that can't be fixed."

Emma's hand dropped subconsciously to her pistol. "That's why you hired me."

"I didn't want to face six boys with just one of me, no."

"Eight." Smee corrected, before slamming a hand over his lips. "I ain't talking."

"Eight." Graham corrected. "You still onboard?"

Emma shrugged. "Doesn't matter much to me how many there are. I'm a bounty hunter – taking groups of men down is kind of what I do."

"We can't kill 'em."

"That makes it a challenge."

"Please keep it in mind. We don't want bloodshed here in Storybrooke."

"I will." Emma turned her eyes from Smee's slouching form to Graham's face. "What do you know about the mayor?"

"She's great." His voice was monotone. "Runs the town perfectly, and we've never had a bit of trouble with her."

"Her kid told me she was hard to live with."

Graham shrugged. "Probably is. She's a bit rough around the edges, but she gets things done."

"Would you think she'd ever hurt anybody?"

"Maybe." His eyes fluttered and she wanted to ask what he was remembering or thinking about, but he spoke again. "She'll do whatever needs to be done in order to keep this town safe."

Emma resumed her examination of the wanted posters on the wall, if only so that Graham couldn't read the suspicion on her face. She could hear him moving about the station, shuffling papers, and clearing his throat. Though she couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was, Emma was sure something was going in this town.


End file.
